


Seven Deadly Smuts

by The_Dark_Elf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, but not really, gratuitous use of pet names, just porn my dudes, no beta we die like men, slight Breeding Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2020-08-10 13:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20136556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dark_Elf/pseuds/The_Dark_Elf
Summary: A collection of smut shorts with Harry and a collection of male creatures





	1. Sloth - A Day Off

“Come back to bed.” Ash’s voice was muffled by the pillow he had shoved his face into at some point during the night, but the familiar lyrical tones made Harry shiver where he stood at the side of their bed. The light that was leaking in through the gauzy white curtains hinted that it was closer to noon than it was morning, but the elf seemed content to lounge for the next year… or century. Not that Harry doubted that he would; time didn’t hold the same power over Ash as it did him. The elf had once said that he had slept through the entire settling of the New World only to wake up in time for the second (third?) French revolution.

“Some of us have a job to go to,” Harry laughed. Sure, his job was as a cashier at the twin’s joke shop - and they had been pushing for him to take a day off since the damn place had opened - but Harry had never had the luxury of doing nothing. The lingering touch of the war and echoes of the Dursleys made him far too anxious to stay still long. 

In one fluid motion, Ash had sat up in bed and snatched Harry around the waist, easily tugging the wizard back into bed and pinning him under his larger body. Harry yelped, hands straining uselessly against the iron grip around his wrists, and glared up into playful silver eyes. “Your trouble makers will last a day without you, dearest. I will perish from loneliness.” Ash let his weight (lighter than any six foot Man but still enough to press Harry into the mattress below him) rest on him in a dramatic swoon. 

A huff was pushed from Harry at the sudden weight, but there was a smile on his face even as he half-heartedly attempted to squirm his way free. “You were without me for two million years,” He teased.

Ash huffed as he always did when Harry over exaggerated his age, and dipped his head down to nip at the wizard’s shoulder in retaliation, drawing another yelp from the boy. Ash loved to mark his little wizard from the moment he had stumbled on the sixteen-year-old wizard wandering the Forbidden Forest in grief for his Godfather. The playful nip to his wrist had drawn Harry from his grief better than any of his friends had managed, and Harry had found himself coming back the next day, and the next, until Ash had finally sent a beautiful owl to formally request to court him. They bonded on Harry’s seventeenth birthday, only to be driven apart the next day when Death Eaters attacked Bill and Fluer’s own wedding. 

It had been Ash that saved Fred from a killing curse, and Ash who had fired the arrow that killed the man had Remus cornered. It was Ash who had called upon the magic of the Forest itself when he saw Harry’s limp body carried by Hagrid. 

The scream that had left his husband as that magic tore through him still haunted Harry’s dreams, just as he had been woken many nights by Ash’s arms clutching him tightly to his shaking chest. 

All of his resistance slipped away, and this time when Harry tugged at the grip Ash had on his wrists the elf allowed him to move, letting him cup the elf’s face and draw him down into a kiss. When they pulled back, Harry wandlessly summoned his patronus to tell the twins that he would not be coming in. He got back a hyena and coyote both only saying “Fucking finally.”

Ash chuckled low in his chest and leaned down to press another kiss to Harry’s lips. The wizard squirmed after a few moments, knowing that Ash would spend hours simply kiss him if Harry allowed it. 

“I thought you were planning on going back to sleep?” Harry asked with a giggle when Ash finally released his lips to nip down his throat. 

“There are better things to do to you in my bed,” Ash growled with a smirk and sunk his teeth into the skin where Harry’s neck met his shoulder, drawing a sweet whine from the boy. 

A simple wandless spell had them both naked (Harry having learned long ago that when his husband was riled it was either that or Ash would tear the clothes from both of them, something that was far less sexy now that he was tearing silk and leather instead of Dudley’s hand-me-downs) and both of them hissed at the sudden overwhelming feeling of skin on skin. 

Harry was so lost in the sensation he didn’t even realize Ash had moved for the vial of oil on their bedside table until slick fingers were probing at his hole, slipping in with no resistance. A sweet keen slipped from his lips as he pressed back into the finger. Ash often would see just how many times he could get his little husband to cum from his fingers alone, if only so he could watch the glazed over look those emerald eyes took when he was three fingers deep inside him. Now however he was too impatient to draw it out longer, and he rushed as much as he dared in stretching his lover.

Then he was pushing his cock into Harry and they were both gasping, clinging to each other as they adjusted. When Harry squirmed against him, Ash’s hands fell to his hips gripping tight enough to bruise. The elf set a slow pace, drawing out every whimper and groan until Harry was sobbing as he spilled over their chests. Ash followed only a few thrusts later with a long groan of pure male satisfaction. 

When Ash collapsed onto the bed next to him and wrapped an arm around Harry, the wizard had to agree that a day in bed wasn’t all that bad.


	2. Envy - What's In A Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I am aware that I said this would be all male characters, I see Fae as beyond gender. So while I didn't refer to them as male specifically, they take on a male form and truly don't care about pronouns as the concept of being one or other has not occurred to them. Sorry if that offends.

“Give me your name.”

“Why give you my name when I could give you any name?”

They were familiar partners in this dance. It was only these times that the sad boy smiled. It was the only time they felt young again. The game had become a release for them both. An escape from roles neither wanted.

The game had started years before when the sad boy had been little more than skin and bone wrapped in ill-fitting clothing and they had been little more than a shadow of what they once were. There was something about the boy that made them want to act, not maliciously as they once would have, but simply to play. 

Now their boy had grown to a man, still skin and bone but with fine-crafted leather and silk wrapping his lithe frame and a harder set to his face. He had been coming to the little copse of trees they called home in recent years. The last time had been nearly two summers before when their boy had simply sat outside their circle and cried until the sun had finally set. 

“I could take you from here. I only need your name.” The offer surprised both of them, but the boy nearly crumbled where he stood in front of them.

“I died.” The words left the sad boy in a rush, leaving him to snap his jaw closed so fast his teeth made an audible sound.

They blinked in surprise, tilting their head to one side. “You look far better than any corpse I have ever seen.”

The boy huffed a sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. “I came back, but no one understands. I was raised to fight a war that I never started, and after I died to save all of them they turned from me.”

Another blink, a moment taken to absorb the sorrow that poured off their boy in waves. How dare they? How dare they possess something so precious then throw it aside when they no longer deemed it useful? How dare they shatter the pure heart that beat in their boy’s chest?

They unfurled to their full height, towering a full head over their boy. One step, then two, then they were a scant few inches away from their boy. “A promise then,” they whispered into the silence between them, dipping their head until they could look the boy in the eye. “I will protect you, will take you far away from all the things that would harm you, will see you pampered for centuries. I will make you mine, and none of those humans will put a finger on you again. All I need, little one, is your name.”  
Tears gathered in the boy’s eyes, but he leaned into them through the breaking of his heart. It was so clear now all the pain that this little creature had been through, how many people had taken their sweet boy and shattered him over and over. One of their hands came up to cup the boy’s face. 

“Would you prefer a different form?” This time when they spoke, their voice was sweet and feminine and their body shifted to gain the gentle curves and dips of a female. The boy went a sweet cherry red and closed his eyes. “Ah, perhaps you wish for something stronger. For someone to protect you after you have given so much to save everyone else around you.” This time their voice deepened, and their slender body filled out with muscle, dwarfing the boy in front of them. 

Those petal pink lips opened, then the emerald green eyes, then the boy was speaking. “I don’t want you to have to change. I want you.” 

They smiled, sharp teeth flashing as they leaned in closer to their boy. “You will have me in every way, sweet boy. But I think this form is what I will use to claim you first. Just give me your name.”

The boy - their clever, sweet boy - didn’t answer with words, but instead leaned forward to press a kiss to their lips. A gift then, a blessing from the boy they had grown to love in the all-encompassing possessive way of the fae, and they would never allow a single one of those gifts to go without answer. They surged forward, taking control of the kiss and wrapping the boy so tightly in their arms that he let out a squeak of surprise.

It was a matter of seconds to get their boy pinned to the soft grass below them, spread out in a delicious display. The soft silk shirt slid up to expose his toned midriff and those tempting leather pants were riding low enough on his hips that it left very little to the imagination. The flush that covered those pale cheeks was delicious, but it was those half-lidded eyes full of so many questions that nearly broke them. 

“I will take care of you,” They breathed, dipping down to press nipping kisses over the boy’s throat. “I will never let another put their filthy hands on you.” 

Their boy trembled and arched so perfectly under them, tipping his head back in complete submission. “I only want you. No one else.”

A savage smile tugged on their lips, hidden where they were pressed against their boy’s skin. Yes. He was theirs and theirs alone. They would write their name on the boy’s very soul and hear him scream it in ecstasy every day, multiple times a day if they got their way. Just them and their sweet boy with no one left to hurt him. 

Thin hands glided up to his shirt, carefully plucking at each of the buttons until a thin, toned chest was bare before them. “Beautiful. You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.” Their voice was breathless as they could never remember it being before as they took in the sight of their boy, flushed down his chest and panting before them. Centuries could pass and they would never tire of this view, but there was no time to ogle now. Not when their boy was flushed and squirming and reaching out to them to prettily.

They caught those hands in one of their own and pinned them down to the soft grass below them. Half a thought had vines (thin enough for their boy to pull free if he truly desired, but still holding him in place) wrapped around those delicate wrists, and wasn’t that a pretty sight. They filed away the eager gasp and thrust of their boy’s hips for later. There would be centuries to discover what he loved, what would make him go mad, what would make him sing for hours. But first they had to claim him.

In a few heartbeats they were both bare, and their boy was gasping out a spell. They didn’t have to be a wizard to know that his tight hole was now slicked and loosened for them. If they weren’t as desperate and had the time to spare they would punish him for that.

They pressed into him in one fluid motion, cursing fluidly at the heat gripping at them so tightly. Perfect. Their boy was made for them to take like this. It wasn’t until their boy gasped out a sobbing plea that they started their savage pace, pounding into the smaller body as the raven-haired boy gasped and wailed in pleasure. 

It wouldn’t last, not when they were so tightly wound, and already they could feel the heat racing up their spine as they neared completion. Their hands dropped to the boy’s waist and lifted him so his entire lower half was supported. The next thrust had the boy screaming out as his pretty little cock bounced against his abdomen. There. 

“You are mine. All mine. I will have you, protect you, serve you for centuries.” Their words were breathless as they pounded into the boy, but the tightening around their cock told that they were heard. “You will be my husband, my consort, my most precious treasure. All I need is your name.”

Two thrusts more and the boy was sobbing out his completion, tightening around their cock until they roared out as they came inside him. They lowered his hips back down and dropped to their elbows above him, gasping for breath.

It could have been minutes or days before their boy broke the silence, voice hoarse and still breathless. “Hadrian James Potter.”

There was a flash of light, the lingering scent of growing things, and Harry Potter was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments? How did I do? Was my second attempt at published smut okay? Let me know!


	3. Wrath - Divine Rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I going to hell for using a legit Catholic angel in a porn short? Probably. Do I care? Nah.

The clock struck twelve, doling out through the Number 4 Privet Drive unheard by the inhabitants there. All of them, that is, except one teenage boy locked away in a room that was more of a cell. Harry Potter trembled in his bed, whimpering with each movement as it tugged at the wounds of his most recent beating. His uncle had paid him a visit - a present he had claimed for turning seventeen. 

The final chime ran through the house and Harry bent his head, praying desperately that someone, anyone, would come for him, but they wouldn’t. No one had come for sixteen years, why would they come now?

A light filled the room not the gentle glow of a lumos spell, but the unwavering light of dawn, stark and nearly painful after the darkness of the last few hours. A soft noise, all he could really manage through the pain that wracked his too slender frame, broke the tense silence in the room, but a deep voice shushed him. 

Harry’s heart froze. Not Vernon again. Please. 

“Peace, Little Wizard. I will not harm you.” The voice was one and many, both and neither gender. It hurt Harry’s head.

“Forgive me, I forgot how your minds cannot comprehend our true selves.” Now the voice had changed: male, low, gentle but with an underlying iron that made Harry shiver. Then a warm hand rested on his hair, and a wave of soothing warmth ran down from his head to his feet. He felt lighter, and breathing didn’t hurt. Harry shifted slightly, and, when there was no pain, he flipped over onto his back. 

The man above him was... Harry couldn’t think of a word worthy of him. The blond hair wind tousled and falling temptingly into his ice blue eyes. High cheekbones and a strong jaw were offset by full pink lips and a slim straight nose. But it was the huge white feathered wings that drew Harry’s full attention. 

“What... who?”

“You’re prayer was too loud for me to ignore.”

Harry blinked up at him. Once. Twice. A third time. “You… heard?”

The man dipped his head in acknowledgement, lips tugging down in a frown. “I have heard you for many years now, but it was only now that I was able to come to you. There were circumstances that must have been met before I was given leave.”

“I was going to die.”

“Yes.” Harry should have probably felt something about that, but he had been at death’s door since he was a year old. Death was probably tired of him at this point.

“You won’t make me stay, will you?” There was a plea in Harry’s voice, a desperate whine as he scrambled up to his knees to beg. He would kiss the man’s feet if it meant he would get out of here, would give him his life and his soul and every inch of his body.

The man frowned and reached out to hook a finger under Harry’s chin, guiding his eyes up to meet that icy blue gaze. “Why would I have gone through the effort of saving you only to let you die another day? I have been watching for years both yearning and dreading the moment that I would be able to come for you. As much as I wanted to help, there was a part of me that wished I would never have to; I do not enjoy your pain.”

“Why do you care?” The question slipped out before Harry could stop himself, and the young wizard wished he could suck the words back in the moment they passed his lips.

The man stopped and tilted his head, as if weighing his answer before a soft smile tugged at those lips. “I was assigned to you the moment the prophecy was made. It was my mission to see you through it, only acting in the most dire of moments. Over the years, you went from a mission, to something I came to cherish. Your pure heart is a drug to my kind; the good and love you put into the world intoxicating. Now that you are a man, you have become… beautiful to me.” 

“No one ever cared about me, if they did, they died for it.”

Those blue eyes hardened, fury sparking in their depths. “I will see every betrayal repaid. Every hurt, every word, every glance. I have come to love you, little wizard, and my kind do not let such a feeling fade quietly into the night.”

“What’s your name?” Suddenly Harry was desperate for it, needing to know what to call this man just as much as he needed the air for his next breath.

Another gentle smile, and the man was leaning in to whisper in Harry’s ear. “Your kind has named me Raguel, and my virtue is Justice.”

It was like a cord was plucked in Harry’s core, sending vibrations from the very center of him to the tips of his fingers and toes. Justice. Someone to fight for him, to ensure that he was never treated like this again. Justice for the boy locked under the stairs and forgotten. Justice for the weapon that never wanted to fight in a war he never started.

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had thrown himself at Raguel, arms and legs wrapping around him tightly before he pressed their lips together. It was sloppy and just as wet as his kiss with Cho due to the tears running down his face, but Raguel’s hands gripped him like he was something precious as he responded, pressing into the kiss with enough passion to steal Harry’s breath. This is what he never had, someone to love him and protect him, to hide him away from the evils in the world and allow him to simply be Harry.

A moan slipped from his lips before he could stop it, and Raguel’s hands tightened on his thighs before he pulled away. “Hadrian, Harry,” Oh, how satisfying it was to hear just how wrecked the angel was, how breathless and full of desire, “I do not require this from you. You do not need-”

“I want it, please.” Harry’s voice was desperate as he locked his legs tighter around Raguel’s waist. “Make me feel loved.”

There was a flash of something in Raguel’s eyes - rage for the child left on a doorstep, sorrow for the boy left to be ignored, wrath at all of those who had done this boy so wrong - then his back was pressed back into the thin mattress of his bed, and the angel’s weight was settling over him. 

“You need only speak a word, and I will stop. I do not want to cause you harm.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” Harry said with full confidence, a sweet smile on his lips.

A groan ripped from Raguel’s throat, then they were both naked and the angel was kissing down his throat. It was a haze of sensation: hands - two? Four? More? - lips - kissing, whispering, suckling - and Harry was lost. So lost in the waves of pleasure and need, Harry didn’t realize the angel had produced a bottle of lube until a slicked finger was probing at his entrance. 

His wailing keen was lost to Raguel’s lips claiming his own with bruising force, chasing Harry’s tongue back into his own mouth until Harry couldn’t tell where one of them started. He was so distracted that Raguel managed to slip one then another finger inside him. It wasn’t until Raguel crooked his fingers and pressed against a bundle of nerves deep inside him that Harry threw his head back with a cry.

Raguel groaned and pulled his fingers free from Harry. The wizard whined at the empty feeling, but the sound soon changed to a sobbing moan as Raguel pressed into him in one smooth motion. Any pain that Harry might have experienced was lost in a wave of pleasure as those hands wrapped around his legs and tilted him up so Raguel could press against something deep inside him. The wizard’s head dropped back in a desperate moan.

“That’s it, little one. Let me help you.”

They set a fast pace, clutching, scratching, biting, kissing, until they were both gasping and trembling through the pleasure. There would be time later for a long drawn out lovemaking. There would be time later for Raguel to map every inch of the little wizard, to kiss over all those marks and ensure the memory of all those hurts would never touch his wizard again.

One of those hands wrapped around Harry’s length, pumping once, twice, until Harry was spilling over his hand and chest. Raguel only lasted a handful more thrusts before he was filling the boy with a low groan. 

Harry was asleep almost instantly, but he remained awake, taking care to clean the boy and cover him in the thin blanket. While the little wizard slept, Raguel’s eyes were locked on the door, past it to the next bedroom where a whale of a man snored with his horse of a wife. His virtue was Justice, and it was time that Harry Potter’s suffering was paid back in full. The residents of Privet Drive swore they heard nothing as their neighbors were slaughtered, leaving only their son in the carnage. The nephew was nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions? Requests? Talk to be below! Feel free to support me on Ko-Fi! https://ko-fi.com/the_dark_elf


	4. Greed - Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greed as a dragon trope. Translation: Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived-Twice and King Virgin, was looking for a dragon in a gay bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings, I am not dead. I've been slammed with school and all that jazz, but of course I couldn't get this dragon idea out of my head so there's that. Have some more porn because I should be doing a speech.

Of all the things that had happened to Harry Potter in his life, this would have to be the most unbelievable (and he once stabbed a sixty foot snake with a magic sword that came out of a hat at twelve). 

When he had agreed to help Charlie find the, apparently male, dragon he, Ron, and Hermione had released from Gringotts during the hunt for horcruxes, Harry had expected to find the creature set up somewhere on the countryside, terrorizing farmers and their herds. Not to learn that the dragon was apparently a shifter and had taken residence in London. Or that rather than gold and jewels, this particular dragon had a thing for “pure males”.

Translation: Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived-Twice and King Virgin, was looking for a dragon in a gay bar. 

He was going to hex Charlie if the Dragon-tamer laughed one more time. Hermione too for the clothes she had shoved him in before pushing him through the Floo. 

One of Sirius’ old leather jackets hung (spelled) open over a shirt made entirely of black mesh, showing off Harry’s chest and the two golden piercings through his nipples he had gained through a night of drinking with the twins that he didn’t entirely remember. His other reminder of that night, a magical Basilisk tattoo that traveled over his body as it willed and hissed parseltongue at anyone who got too close, was currently wrapped around his right thigh like a garter, visible at the edge of his shorts. Did these count as shorts when his ass and balls could barely fit inside at the same time? The look was completed with heavy black boots that gave him a scant few inches so he could look at the backs of the crowd’s necks rather than their shoulder blades.

He was definitely hexing all of them.

Harry had been propositioned no less than ten times, groped three, and had one rather sloppily drunk man thrown out of the bar for indecent behavior. He wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into his warm bed with his toys and forget this ever happened.

That was until one moonpale arm wrapped around him from behind and someone nuzzled the back of his ear from behind. Harry’s arm moved to elbow his latest admiror away, only for the familiar scent of smoke and leather to fill his lungs. The boy would never be able to forget that scent, not when it had belonged to-

“Well, well. I thought I recognized your scent, Treasure,” A low gravelly voice purred in his ear and a forked tongue traced over the delicate shell. “You nearly drove me mad when you left with the other two morscels, you know.” 

“I didn’t-” Whatever Harry was going to say was lost as that arm, pure white with too sharp nails to be anything other than talons painted black, slid up his chest so the dragon could toy with one golden hoop through his nipple. Pleasure lanced up his spine, and Harry arched into the touch with a gasp.

“Didn’t what, precious? Know that I was going to take you somewhere safe and claim you? That I wanted you sprawled out under me like a feast? That I would have showered you with gems and furs befit for a prince? Or is it that you didn’t know that the moment my mind came back to me I shifted and wrapped my hand around my cock because your scent was maddening?” That voice should be illegal in every country, much less England. It made Harry’s legs shake, and his cock twitched inside the sinfully tight shorts, drawing a soft gasp from his lips to be drowned out by the music.

Or it would have if the dragon behind him didn’t have supernaturally advanced hearing.

A deep chuckle rumbled through the chest behind him and another arm wrapped around him to palm at his hardening cock. “Do you like that, pet? Do you like knowing that you drive me insane.” The last word was punctuated by a slow roll of those hips, grinding an impossibly huge length against the swell of his ass. 

Fuck if it didn’t feel amazing to have someone touch him like this in the first time in… ever really. Harry’s mind was going hazy as he tried to sort through why exactly it would be a bad idea to let this man/dragon/whatever throw him over the bar and fuck him while everyone watched. “Reserve… den… for you,” He managed to pant out, frowning in concentration. Why was it so hard to-

“Oh, my jewel,” That voice groaned and sharp teeth nipped at his throat. “You can feel it can’t you? How your body is crying out for me to make you mine. My little mate,” The last words were hissed into his ear in what only could be parseltongue, and Harry’s knees nearly buckled underneath him.

“Please,” Harry hissed back, not entirely sure what he was asking for. Please stop? Please mate him? Please, please please!

Again that chuckle and then a gentle kiss was placed to his shoulder. “How sweetly you ask, precious, but do you know what you’re asking for? I do not share. You will be mine, body and soul, just as I will be yours. Any who dare take you from me will be ended slowly, without mercy. No one else will touch you. You will be mine to worship, to breed, to love.”

He would be safe, loved, even have a family. Everything Harry had ever wanted was being laid out in front of him. He wouldn’t be a weapon again, not a sword to wield but a jewel to treasure.

Without thinking, Harry turned in those arms and leaped at the shifter, sealing their lips together in an enthusiastic, if messy, kiss. Strong arms caught him, lifting him up and allowing his legs to wrap around a trim waist. Harry sent a pulse of magic to the portkey hanging around his neck, activating it with a tug behind both of their navels.

They landed in a cabin in the Romanian reserve, the den set aside for the shifter currently ravaging his mouth. A whine slipped from his lips as his back met the wall, and Harry clawed at the leather hiding the dragon’s body from view. It was a blur of tongues and teeth and claws, but soon those shorts had been ripped down the center and a thick head was prodding at his entrance. 

Harry gasped and pulled back to look into those sightless pink eyes that still seemed to track every movement of him. Between pants, Harry managed to whisper spells, cleaning, lubing, stretching, his hole. 

“Please! Please take me!” He hissed out in Parseltongue.

He got a smirk in reply before that thick length plunged deep into his hole in one smooth motion. A scream tore itself free from Harry’s lips at the sudden intrusion, but his legs tightened around that trim waist, pulling the dragon closer for more, more, more! 

“Greedy thing,” His lover groaned, thrusting forward hard enough to make the photos on the wall rattle and shake with each motion. “You want more, Precious?” He crooned.

Harry let out an overwhelmed sob, pressing into each thrust and letting his head fall back against the wall with a thud. Fuck, of all the ways he had fantisized of losing his virginity, being mounted against the wall by a dragon shifter had to beat every single one. He knew he wasn’t going to last long, particularly when his legs were hiked just that much higher and every brutal thrust hit something deep inside of him that made him scream and see stars. 

“Cum for me, treasure. Let me feel how you squeeze around my cock.” The order tipped him over the edge with one last shattered scream. A few brutal thrusts later and the shifter stilled above him, something hot flooding him as the male growled. 

It could have been hours or days before they moved to the bed, Harry wrapped tightly in the dragon’s arms. “Thorn. Your pretty little human tongue couldn’t say my true name, but that’s a close enough translation.” 

Harry was half dozing against Thorn’s chest when Charlie’s panther patronus stepped through the door to their hut. “Good job getting the dragon back to the reserve, but I’ve been told to inform you that fucking the dragon is not an accepted way to capture one. You’re off work until Monday, little brother. Make sure you shower before you show up for your next shift, and tell my brother-in-law hello.” The black haired boy groaned and threw his pillow through the patronus, but his grumbling was silenced by Thorn’s kiss.

“Let’s give that dragon-tamer of yours nieces and nephews, precious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This contains one of my favorite lines I have ever written ever. I promise I am still writing and working on a bunch of other things, including several rarepair series (I have four different Percy/Harry drafts in my HP folder send help) a collection of oneshots (also Percy/Harry) and the possible expanding of one of these shorts! Tell me what you're thinking about it. Which one would you like to see longer? Would you even read something Percy/Harry if I wrote it? Should I actually be doing my homework?


End file.
